The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1887-04-07

Ito sweetest smiles to others lend;
Ny solace 10 this cheering thought
Yes, this alone, thou art my friend.
G. w. CRoF1s.
LEFT IN THE PIT.
1t was past noon when started for
the home of my bethrothed. But my
horse was good and l rode hard. ]
might be at Trevesy by nightfall.
There was q sprinkle of snow on the
ground, and q feathery shower fell
lightly around me, of which thought
nothing till sunset. The short, dark
day was over at O'Clock. and at
that hour asharp wind sprang up and
the snow began falling thickly. 1 felt
somewhat blinded by the big flakes,
ever flying downward and onward and
around me, like a cold, patient army.
whose onslaught could never be stay
ed or driven back.
Still pushed on, though tho beast
l rode shook and trembled and strove,
in his dumb way, to reason against
my headstrong will. And now, with
some dismay, suddenly perceived by
the sinking of my horse even to his
TANKS in heaped snow, that, bewil-
dered by the Wilderness, he and l had
lost the road. 1t was but rough
one at the best, for l was in g. wild
country, where mines were many and
men few. Extricating my poor steed
from the drifted snow wherein he
Aoundered, I rested him moment
and shouted for help. Again and
again my cry came back to me, fol-
lowing on the wings of the cold wind,
but no other sound broke the deathly
stiffness of the night.
Oh, for the saving light in some
charitable window! But there was
none-only snow and darkness, dark
ness and snow all around. thought
it terrible, and yet in a little span of
time from this l would have deemed
it paradise to be lying lonely in the
heaped snow upon this drear moor.
l put my horse to a sharp canter,
and he went about fYrlong blindly,
then stood still, snorting with terror.
! strove to urge him ON, but he refused
to obey either whip or spur. Seeing
no reason for my horses fright or
stubbornness, spurred him sharply,
and urged him with angry voice to
obedience. His wonderful obstinacy
compelled ME at length to dismount,
and, with drawn sword in my hand,
prepared for highwayman or footpad,
| dragged him onward by the bride
Upon this he made one hasty plunge
forward, then stopped, and at the
same instant the earth went from be-
meath my feet and l fell-fell 1 knew
not VIII h"r, down, down into the
deep unfathomable, terrible
as t! lit. l can scarcely say
whet4 ught as fell, yet knew
I was Co., 10 death-knew was de-
scending one OF those unused shafts
that lie on many a Cornish moor
knew that my bones would be un-
thought ofin it's dismal depths forever.
But even at that instant my flight
was arrested, and hung in mid air,
clinging by my hands, to what l knew
not. 1t was my sword, which l had
forgotten that 1held. BY q miracle it
had thrust itself, as fell beneath the
earth and the rocks, in the side of the
shaft, and, damned fast it held me up.
l cannot explain how this occurred.
l only know that it was so. As the
cry for mercy escaped my lips the mer-
cy came. My sword caught in the in.
terstices of the rock and was held up,
my feet dangling over the abyss, and
my hands clinging to the hilt of my
good blade. It was as firm as a wedge;
l could feel that in spite of my trem-
bling, yet my position was horrible.
to remain thus, to hold on, was tor
ture unutterable. but to yield, even for
a moment, was death. There was no
hope for relief even for hours; there
was no possibility of relief of posture;
there was nothing but strong endur-
ance and courage to carry me through.
l waited, l suffered, I prayed.
It was night to me of fire. The
winds blew and the snow fell, but the
cold touched me not. Ihad fallen too
deeply in the shaft for that, even if
my tortured blood could have felt it.
Morning broke at last, and hope
grew with it. At intervals l had call
ed aloud through the night, and now
with scarcely an intermission, raised
my voice in cries for help. / did this
till WEAKNESS stopped me, and l rest
ed in agonized hope of voice in reply
There was none. No sound reached
me. l was in my grave alone. 1call.
my voice. | drew in my breath and
shouted with the strength of despair.
There was no answer.
The sun travelled upward, and l
knew it was high noon, though to me
the stars were visible likewise; yet the
midday rays shone somewhat into
the shaft and showed me how l hung.
The pit was quite perpendicular; it
sloped slightly from my feet upward,
and had found rest for one foot on
the ledge OF the rock. o, the ease OF
my anguish from this lnerciful rest!
Tears sprang to my eyes as thanked
God for it.
The sun had shown me that to climb
out of the pit unaided was impossible,
so l called for help again, and called
until my voice failed me. ceased to
cry, and night fell on me again.
AS the hours crept on q kind of mad
ness seized me; phantoms sprang up
from the pit and tempted me to plunge
below; horrible eyes glared on me. But
worse of all was the sound of water
a purling rill flowing gently in my very
ears. trickIi'.g dropby drop in sweetest
music, horribly distant. Water! To
reach water l would willingly die; but
/ knew it was madness, so l resisted
the fiery thirst that would have me
release my hold and perish. Water!
Yes, there was water at the bot
tom of the shaft, fathoms deep below
my feet, but Icould only reach that to
die; and there was the water on the
fair earth, fathoms above me-water